A Husband For Celebrian
by sylc
Summary: Celebrían and her cousin, Orodlin, discuss her suitors. Beta'd by Neoinean. Inspired by Shakespeare's "The Merchant Of Venice". Orodlin is listed as the youngest son of Orodreth in HoME 5.


"Marriage?"

Brows raised, Celebrían looked up at her cousin from where she lay reclined in her seat on his front porch, a goblet of wine in her hand. Orodlin, who had just emerged from the villa, gave her a grave nod of affirmation.

"Cousin," he said, approaching when she shot him a distasteful look, "I understand your disdain and I loathe to sound so much like your father, but realise that it is such an auspicious time for you to choose yourself a husband."

"Because of the festival and the fact that there are so many unwedded lords wandering the lands of Lindon?"

He crouched down beside her chair and reached out to grasp her hand in his own.

"Exactly."

She sat up, annoyance still written across her face. "Orodlin, I see no reason to choose myself a partner yet, especially not one of those elves that have already made enquiries as to my availability for a match. I have no wish to give up my freedom and settle down with any of their relatives."

"None of them?"

"None," she asserted, looking away and reaching out to beckon one of her maidens. "I fail to see why you must trouble me so with such talk. I thought that I could escape this matter by fleeing Belfalas and Lothlórien, but it seems that I can go no where without the critical eyes of my relatives following me."

"I assure you, I am not in league with the rest of our family," Orodlin said with a laugh. "But you see, Celebrían, it is my duty to see that you find yourself a match befitting of your class."

"My class or my temperament?" she asked, before turning to the maiden. "Fetch me my shawl, Cúriel."

"It is extremely rare that one could ever find a mate who could serve to be both our lover and our friend," Orodlin said pleasantly. "Even the Secondborn, with their vast populations, bleat their difficulties in finding a partner who can serve as their companion."

"Well, I do not wish to lie with a man who requires me only for the production of heirs," Celebrían said sourly. "Hear me, Orodlin. If the begetting of heirs is the sole objective of marriage then I shall sleep with the prettiest of the Silvan dancers at the festival out of wedlock and give Celeborn the prettiest and politest of grandchildren."

He laughed merrily and patted her hand. "Dear cousin, no heir would be pleased to call themselves a bastard. And even if a child was born in that manner, you would not be able to call him an heir, for he would be illegitimate. Marriage is marriage. The sanctity of the family should not be so lightly treated. Respect your parents, support your siblings and care for your children. That is our policy."

"And respect for your wife?" Celebrían asked sourly. She sighed when Orodlin laughed and pulled her hand from his grasp. "Orodlin, you are a hypocrite. You have not lived with Elanor since your daughter reached her adult years."

"I love her," Orodlin said, smiling. "I keep her content with her finances and allow her to do as she pleases. I pass a blind eye towards her paramours."

"Few men would be accepting of their wife's cuckoldry, let alone boast that they do not care about it, though they be paramours themselves to their friends' wives," Celebrían said testily. "I do not wish to end up with such a husband."

He sighed and stood up, straightening his luncheon robes. "I propose that you go soon and contemplate the offers that you have received. At least have some idea of whom you feel might satisfy you in their class and appearance before attending the opening night of the festivities."

"I have already done that," she said and her eyes narrowed at his surprised look. "Do not look so surprised. Naught will come of my pains to consider their offers any longer, I am sure." She looked towards the maiden who was approaching with her shawl. "Cúriel," she said as she put down her goblet and accepted the garment, "name the suitors that seemed to us the most appropriate and I shall tell my cousin what I think of them."

"My Lady," the maiden said. "There is first, the son of King Oropher. Prince Thranduil."

Orodlin laughed. "A handsome face, I think."

"True," Celebrían said disdainfully, wrapping her shawl around herself, "but for all his charms, he is a drunkard and his father owns no land. I do not wish to be a wanderer."

"Hm." Orodlin looked at the maiden. "The next suitor, I pray."

"There is Lord Belegund, of the House of Celebrimbor."

"A dreadful match," Orodlin said immediately.

Celebrían snickered. "We shall pass onto the next suitor then. Who is the next one, Cúriel?"

"Ah, well that would be Gundor, son of Gildor Inglorion," Cúriel said promptly.

Orodlin looked at Celebrían thoughtfully. "What think you of Gundor?" he asked. "He is certainly a caring and upright young lad."

"But little else," she said, with a wry twist of her lips. "I feel that he, like Thranduil, only approached me to satisfy the imperious command of their fathers. Besides, Gildor is still connected to my own parents and they control all of his actions as a lord of Evendim, so I do not think that I shall ever be free of their critical eye if I wed his son."

"Safety, then, is the chief benefit in choosing Gundor," Orodlin said. "How many suitors are there left now?"

"Some six or so," Celebrían said, looking at the maid. "Do not name the two Silvan lords from the south though, I pray you, Cúriel. I shall never be able to choose one of them."

"That leaves four," Cúriel said. "Of these, there is firstly Lord Galdor's youngest son, Haldor."

"I am considering him," Celebrían said, grinning at Orodlin's horrified look. "Oh, can you not take a jest, cousin? I am well aware of Haldor's associations and his imminent disowning. I shall not make such a choice without securing some property, as I have already told you."

"That is a sound decision," Orodlin said. "Who is the next suitor, Cúriel?"

"Lord Erestor, son of Erendur," Cúriel said.

"He is promising," Celebrían said, furrowing her brow. "His father recently presented him with a large estate to the south of the Lune, quite near to here. He is not wholly unbearable in his appearance, but I fear that I have some doubts about choosing him."

"How so?" Orodlin asked. "Assuredly, you could do better for land or status in some respects, but Erestor is generous and the House of Erendur is well known for its stability."

"I shall think about him then and place him alongside Thranduil in my consideration," Celebrían said, still looking doubtful. "Cúriel, the next suitor..."

"Is Lord Glóredhel of the Havens," Cúriel said.

"Ah," Orodlin said. His expression had stiffened somewhat.

Celebrían shot him a curious look. "I am little acquainted with him," she said. "However, you do not look pleased that he has proposed to me. Why so?"

"Like Galdor, he is a patriot of the House of Círdan," Orodlin said sourly. "I do not think you would be happy with a husband who is so fond of dancing girls that you would end up in a harem of bickering concubines. But if you choose him, it is likely that you will gain that freedom you so desire, for he cares so little for anyone save his own wants that as long as you present him with a large dowry and a sizable proportion of your wealth annually, he would be extremely content to allow you to do as you wish."

"Then I do not wish to choose him," Celebrían said with a scowl. "He is a sponge and nothing else if he cares more for his wife's money than his wife or children." She beckoned to Cúriel. "The last one is Elrond of Imladris, is it not?"

"Oh, and what do you think of Elrond?" Orodlin asked curiously. "I did not know that he had proposed to you, but I am well pleased. He is an extremely powerful individual with the right to claim the crown."

"He has refused that crown once before," Celebrían said sourly, "I doubt that he will bid for control of Forlond even should Gil-galad pass away, though that is unlikely to ever happen in these times." Then she sighed. "But he is a generous fellow, like to Gundor, only a little wiser for his greater age. It pleases me that his private life has no serious stain on it and his repute as an unprejudiced mind makes me think that I should have much freedom to myself should I wed him."

"But you do not look pleased," Orodlin said. "Is something the matter, cousin?"

"All of his relatives seem to die young," Celebrían mused. "It seems that a curse follows his line. I think that it would be dangerous to live with him on Ernor because of that curse. Perhaps his blood has cursed him."

"Both Thingol's blood and the blood of the kin slayers runs in his veins," Orodlin said. "It is arguably not good, but even so, it is that blood which gives him the right to claim the crown and it is also a match that both of your parents would applaud."

Celebrían looked at him sourly. "They could not refuse Elrond if he went and asked them for my hand as it is," she said. "Elrond has an aura about him that is greater than my parents when he wishes to make use of it. The blood of the Maiar runs through him and if I cannot learn to stand firm under the rage of Elrond, how shall I cope with the rage of Elrond's heirs, though they may well be my children as well?"

Orodlin turned and walked across the porch to the balustrades where he rested his hands upon the stone rail. He gazed thoughtfully out at his gardens. "Is Elrond the last of the suitors?"

"Yes," she said. "I have not mentioned those whom I have already refused."

"Well, there is no need to mention them," Orodlin said, "though... I am curious to know if you turned down any of the lords of Gil-galad's court."

"None so far," Celebrían said.

"What of Seregon?" he asked. She shook her head. "Glorfindel?" She shook her head again. Orodlin sighed. "I am surprised at both of those lords. Seregon is rather old, but he is so knowledgeable and powerful that even Lord Círdan seeks his advice. And Lord Glorfindel is quite the chivalrous match; he seemed so interested in you the last time we all met."

"Perhaps," she said, "but neither of those elves have expressed an interest in marrying me."

"It is most peculiar, especially with Glorfindel," Orodlin said, frowning. He tapped his fingers on the rail. "I think I shall speak with him about it. I know that he has no wife, for I have asked him. Neither does he have any lovers, though he has a reputation for flirting at court, and like every man, I suppose he makes occasional use of the courtesans."

"Perhaps he flirts with every girl," she said sourly. "Orodlin, if he does not propose, I cannot accept and I am most certainly not going to propose to him."

"No, no, I advise that you do not take the first step with such a fellow," Orodlin said. "He is highly appreciative of modernity and the liberation of women, but I doubt that he could accept such boldness in his heart. It is too risky a venture with such a distinguished fellow." He pursed his lips. "He has been so busy ever since he last returned from Númenor with his mariners. I believe that he is travelling north during the festival, but I shall invite him, I think, to this villa as soon as I may. Then we shall see."

"I do like him," Celebrían said, with a small smile, "but I doubt that it is anything more than my own wishfulness to believe that I could ever be his wife. He is such a gentleman."

"I will also see if I can get a hold of Seregon," Orodlin continued. "And I am sure that there are some functions at which Elrond, Erestor, and Gundor will be present."

Celebrían groaned. "You _are_ in league with my parents!" she exclaimed. "Why oh why did I come to visit you?"

Orodlin grinned cattishly. "And if those three are not attending functions that welcome the fairer sex, then I shall have to invite them back here and show you off to them."

He ducked when she seized up her goblet and hurled it at him. The goblet sailed over his head and disappeared over the rails and into the hedge on the other side. Unharmed, he straightened, brushed down his robes, and laughed at her scowl.

"Try not to look like that when they come to visit you, my dear," he added, as he turned away to head down the porch steps to the garden.

"Cúriel," Celebrían said sourly, glancing sidelong at the maiden. "Fetch me another goblet. I have a sudden wish to be very drunk."

"Yes, my lady."


End file.
